Love Poems
by Telepathic Love
Summary: Spock tries to write Kirk a poem.


A very gloomy Spock entered his quarters. The Captain had to cancel their lunch today when Doctor McCoy insisted he had waited long enough for the Captain to finally come in for his physical. The doctor had become so impatient he marched onto the bridge and dragged him to sickbay by his ear. Spock hadn't seen Jim since then, and it was their first anniversary of being a couple. Spock sighed before sitting down at his personal computer to work.

His eyes flicked across the screen quickly, absorbing the information like a sponge. When his sponge brain was full, it was 22:30, and he was starting to grow fatigued. Turning off his computer, Spock dressed himself in his blue Starfleet Issue pajamas. He walked over to his bed and pulled back the covers.

On the middle of the mattress, there was an old fashioned envelope with a heart sticker keeping it shut. Spock, raising an eyebrow, picked up the envelope. On the front, in swooping cursive writing, was the word _Spock_. His heightened Vulcan sense of smell could detect a delightful wisp of Jim's cologne, _To the Stars_. The cologne contained pheromones that heightened sexual emotions and pleasure in several species of humanoid. Spock was especially fond of this cologne, and whenever Jim would wear it, his heart would race at 290 bpm.

The Vulcan gently opened the envelope, making sure to keep the sticker intact. Inside was a handwritten note written in rhyme.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_Your blood is green_

_Our love is true_

_ I crave your touch_

_ Your lips upon mine_

_ I love to kiss you_

_ 'Cause baby, you're fine_

_ -Love, Jim_

Spock read the note over and over again. He could hear the words rolling off of Jim's tongue. The enamored Vulcan went over to his replicator and produced a sheet of parchment, a pen, and an envelope. He sat at his desk and began to write.

Spock had spent the entire night writing. As it turns out, Vulcans are not very good at writing love poetry. Finally though, he had a poem. As he looked it over, he was not sure the captain would like it. He had poured his heart and soul into it, but it didn't have the flow the Jim's poetry had. To clear his head, Spock decided to take a walk around the ship.

His wanderings led him strangely to sickbay. The doors swished open, revealing a highly bored Dr. McCoy sitting at his computer consol, catching up on recent medical journals. At the sound of Spock entering, he looked up.

"Spock," he exclaimed contently, "what can I do for you this morning?"

"Doctor, what do you know about," Spock hesitated, "writing love poetry?"

"Are you writing a lil' somethin' somethin' for Jim?"

"I already have. However, I am not sure if it is any good. Would you read it over for me?"

"Certainly."

McCoy read over the poem. As he read, his eyes squinted in criticism. When he finished, he took his time addressing the green-blooded man.

"Spock, I can see you clearly put some hard work into this poem, but what is with all these technical metaphors? Personally, I don't find it very romantic."

Spock frowned as much as his Vulcan blood would allow.

"This poem is, however, the best representation I have for my feelings towards the captain."

"If you want to give him this that is your decision."

"Thank you for your help, Doctor. I believe that is what I will do."

As Captain James T. Kirk returned to his quarters after a long, hard workout at the gymnasium, he thought about his lovely boyfriend. He wondered if Spock had gotten his love poem. He wondered even more if he liked the poem. The doors swished open as he neared them, presenting a green Vulcan, speak of the devil, sitting cross-legged on Jim's bed, meditating. In Spock's hand, an envelope with the word _Jim_ scrawled on it. He removed the envelope from Spock's hand and read the letter inside.

_Like a motherboard to a computer_

_ My love for you is my life_

_ Like a ship without sensors_

_ Blind, without you, like a knife_

_ Like Sherlock without Watson_

_ Like a hedge without a fence_

_ Spock without Jim_

_ It just doesn't make sense._

Jim's eyes grew tearful as he read the last two lines over. By this time, Spock had pulled out of his trance and was staring patiently, waiting for the Captain to give his thoughts. Instead of words, like Spock was expecting, Jim expressed his thoughts about both Spock and the poem in an intent kiss.


End file.
